Twelve Days of Christmas: don't stop until you get here
by Brightness Wordweaver
Summary: Over a succession of Christmases, Ariadne comes home.


It's Christmas 2010, and Ariadne is glad to be home. Senior year of university has been a killer thus far, and she has no reason to expect it'll get easier in the coming months, but for now, she's here with her family and at peace.

They're at her grandma's house, in observance of a time-honored tradition. Exactly how much time it's been honored for, Ariadne is unclear on, but they've been doing it as long as she can remember, which is long enough for her. It's a good turnout this year: her parents and brother and sister are here as always, but there's a solid crowd of aunts and uncles, and they even got her mom's parents to come. Grandpa and Pops don't get along, but as long as nobody mentions politics they'll keep it at a low grumble.

Gifts have been exchanged and the little kids are playing in the piles of wrapping paper when the question comes. "How's school been going, Ariadne?" It's her aunt Edith, who doesn't come around much but tries to stay up on things.

"It's been going pretty good. I was glad to be done with finals, but everything else has been great."

"Where is it you go? Somewhere in France, right?"

"University of Paris. The School of Architecture," Ariadne says proudly. "I'll be graduating with my bachelor's in the spring."

"Do you know what you're going to do with that yet?" Grandma asks. "I don't know about any architect jobs near here, but I can keep an ear out."

"At least for something in the state," Mums agrees.

Her grandmothers would probably be the last two people to know if an architecture job opened up nearby, but that's besides the point. Ariadne really didn't want to tell everybody like this, but it's going to happen anyway. "Actually, I'm going to be staying in Paris for a while. Professor Miles, my advisor, says I should go into the Master's program they have there, and I got accepted with a really good scholarship."

She doesn't want to meet her mom's eyes, but knows she has to anyway. The shock and upset she sees there almost make her want to rip up her acceptance letter and tell Professor Miles 'thanks, but no thanks'-but not quite.

"I'm sorry, Mom," she says. "I didn't mean to tell you like that, in front of everybody." Nobody's talking, so she keeps on, to fill the space. "It actually worked out really well-my roommate's staying in Paris, too, so we're getting a flat together, and I should be able to get a work placement through the school to cover expenses."

"So," Grandma says, slowly and a little querulously, "how much longer do these Master's degrees take? Do they help you get a better job later on down the line?"

"Will you be able to get a job in your field while you're getting the degree? Or at least an internship?" one of the uncles asks.

"Do they offer online coursework? You could move back stateside, be closer to your family," says Mom's sister Janice.

Ariadne fights the urge to clench her teeth. They all mean so well, and yet they understand so little. Even if she _could_ move back to the US for her Master's, she wouldn't. She loves her school, and she loves Paris-loves living in Europe and bonding with her girl friends over international student problems and making her own choices. She knows architecture is what she wants to do for the rest of her life, and she trusts Professor Miles that this is the right step towards that.

"Look," she says, instead of arguing. "It's Christmas. Let's just...enjoy the holiday. Whatever decisions I've made, have already been made. None of that changes the fact that we only get Grandma's sweet potato casserole once a year, in about forty-five minutes."

The conversation uneasily lumbers in a different direction, but more than one member of Ariadne's family casts suspicious glances at her over the rest of the day, and none more so than her mom. At the end of the evening, though, they all sing together over the flaming plum pudding, and Ariadne believes with all her heart that the trouble has gone for good.

...

It's Christmas 2011, and Ariadne is attempting to explain to her boss why she's going to be unavailable for a week and a half, right in the middle of a crucial project.

"It's _Christmas_, Arthur," she says, gesturing her arms. "Everyone takes time off for Christmas, even insane dream thief workaholics. And their architects." She hands him several folders of drawings. "I've already worked ahead and done the maze drafts that I would need to get done then, anyhow. The models to go with them are on my desk."

Arthur takes the folders, flips through them. "You know, family doesn't fit in a PASIV case," he says quietly. He's not just talking about this assignment specifically, Ariadne knows; he's talking about their whole life. Ariadne is fully aware of this; it's why she calls her parents less now, why she hasn't asked-never mind.

"I know," she says, and moves closer to look him in the face. "But at least for the time being, I'd like to offer my parents the illusion that my relationship with them isn't rapidly dissolving. I already missed Thanksgiving. If I don't come home for Christmas, they'll start thinking something's really wrong." She plays her trump card. "The last thing either of us wants is for my parents to start panicking and investigating."

She has him there, and he knows it. "Fine," Arthur says, putting the folders on his desk. "Go enjoy the time with your family. You deserve it-and I appreciate you working ahead to cover the time. Just don't bring back too many sweet stories; you might make people jealous."

He's only half-joking. Ariadne's the only one of the team who's maintained any contact with her relatives, now that Cobb's left. "Thanks," she says. "I swear I won't let them lock me up and keep me in Connecticut for the rest of my days."

"Better not," Arthur says, and there's something in his tone that Ariadne wants to question further, but she doesn't, because now that she really is leaving, she's got a lot of packing to do before setting off across the Atlantic.

Family time is full of questions from all quarters. It's just her parents and siblings and Grandma and Grandpa this year, but they all want to know about how school is going, and what her mysterious new work placement is like, and oh, it turned into a job, how nice, I hope you're still keeping up with your studies, and have you met any nice boys over there who will be willing to move back here with you eventually, when you settle down like we all knew you would.

Ariadne knows, _knows_, that the questions come from a place of love, and she repeats this like a mantra throughout most of her coveted Christmas vacation. And it's worth the questions and the time away from Paris-in-winter and the disappointment from Arthur, because her family does love her, and she loves them enough for now, and there is still her dad's famous roast and her grandma's sweet potato casserole and presents and laughter and carols sung in the light of the flaming plum pudding.

Her little sister tells her about the play they did in school, about the Pied Piper of Hamelin taking away the rats but stealing the children away too, in the end, to a place so wonderful they would never want to come back. Ariadne ignores the strains of "Non, je ne regrette rien" running in her head and doesn't admit what she knows: the day is coming when she can let this place go.

...

It's Christmas 2012, and Ariadne hasn't contacted her family in months. It's been a busy year, busy enough that she hasn't even had time to feel guilty. She and Arthur and Yusuf and Eames are a crack team-a _dream_ team, if she's feeling punnish-and they've planned and heisted and gotten filthy rich and spent a lot of it getting out of town fast and almost died twice and it's _brilliant_.

She's down to half-time enrollment at the university, which makes Professor Miles sad, but he understands. For him, she'll finish her Master's degree eventually, even if it's just a piece of paper to her now.

Her real problem right now is figuring out how to tell her parents what they won't want to hear, and she does have to tell them during this visit, because after this she honestly doesn't know when she'll talk to them again. This knowledge is hard, but not as hard as she would've thought, and that whole issue is so complicated that she shoves it down hard like the crammed suitcase she's trying valiantly to close.

Arthur, sweetheart that he is, comes and holds the suitcase closed so she can finally zip it. She rewards him with a quick kiss. "Don't look so worried," she tell him. "I'm not going to let them talk me out of it; I promise."

They've only been together a few months, long enough to be comfortable with these casual gestures of affection, but short enough to take it hard when one of them has to leave. Her parents don't even know that he exists as anything besides a vaguely sketched coworker in some of her heavily edited anecdotes.

"You better make sure they don't. I'm not about to lose the best architect in the business." He hefts one suitcase and she picks up the other; it's time to get her to the airport. "Do you know if you'll visit them after this year?"

"I haven't decided. Probably not." Saying the words makes it more real somehow. "But I'm not necessarily telling them that part."

At her parents' house, and later at her grandma's, there are hugs and we've-missed-yous and why-haven't-you-calleds. Ariadne knows many of her contacts in the extraction business, including her teammates, would give their right arms to have something like this, so she soaks it up for the future.

Telling the family at large proves to be too much, but she finally gets her mom alone in the kitchen by offering to help with the dishes. "Mom," she says. "I'm not going to move back after the end of the year. I'm staying in France. I'm stable there, my job and everything-" She breaks off, because her mom is getting a little teary.

When the words come, however, they aren't recriminating. "I kind of thought so," her mom says, blinking. "You know what? You're happy there, I can just tell, no matter what your grandma says. Here isn't enough for you anymore."

_You don't know how right you are,_ Ariadne thinks.

"Are you still going to visit?" comes the dreaded question.

"I don't know."

...

It's Christmas 2013, and Ariadne is in Yuma of all places, lying low after a big job. The rest of the team is scattered-Yusuf to a cousin's in Cairo, Eames to Monte Carlo-but she and Arthur have stuck together. They've been married less than a month, and nothing's going to split them up right now.

Usually, the rule is no communication devices of any kind during a lie-low time, but it's Christmas and Ariadne's had two, maybe three phone calls home in the past year, so she's bought a burner phone and dialed her grandma's house number. If she's calculated the time difference right, they should be right between dinner cleanup and plum pudding.

Her sister picks up. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Andi? It's Ariadne."

"Ari? What the-where _are_ you? Why aren't you calling from your regular phone?" her sister demands. "_One_ voicemail a couple of _months_ ago saying not to expect you for the holidays-we tried calling your flat but nobody picked up-Mom! Ari's on the phone, come quick!"

Running footsteps sound on the other end of the line, and then Ariadne's mom's voice comes through. "Ari? Oh, thank goodness you're all right. When I couldn't reach you I thought-"

"I'm fine, Mom. I'm sorry-I didn't mean to make you worry like that." Ariadne pulls her excuses to the front of her brain. "This job I've got-they've, um, promoted me, so I have to travel a lot and I can't really call as much."

"Oh." Her mom sounds unconvinced, but it's the best she can do. "Do you-do you want to talk to your dad? Or your grandma? We've really missed you, sweetheart."

Arthur, waiting a little ways away to give her some privacy, signals her that they need to move, without the phone. "I-I can't really talk. I have to go. There's, um, a flight I have to catch. I just really wanted to call and tell you Merry Christmas. And, and don't worry about me if you don't hear from me. I'm all right. I'm going to be all right."

"Ariadne? Is there something you're not telling me?" They really have to go now. It was dangerous to even do this much.

"No. No, everything's fine. I just have to go now. I love you guys. Merry Christmas." Ariadne hangs up before anything else can happen, and hands Arthur the phone to throw away. It hits her, then, that that might have been the last time she'll get to talk to her mother, and she breaks down and cries for a moment. Arthur lets her, then takes her hand in his, lets her know it's time to be done. They disappear.

"I know that wasn't easy," he says, later, when they're somewhere else.

Ariadne nods. "Family doesn't fit in a PASIV case," she says briefly. That's the full extent of their discussion on the subject.

But some family does fit. Arthur is her family now, she thinks, fingering the gold band she keeps on a chain around her neck, under her blouse. And Eames and Yusuf are sort of family, in a strange way that she can't quantify but simply knows. They might not be together now, but they will be, and that's enough.

...

It's Christmas 2014, and somehow they're all four together in Paris. Cobb's even in town, taking his kids to visit Miles, and he's joined them for dinner at an Italian fusion restaurant because nobody wants to cook. Yusuf is defending his weird pizza topping choices to the group at large, but Eames is too busy ordering strong drinks for everyone to pay attention. Arthur is regaling Cobb with stories of their latest heists when the waitress is out of earshot, his arm around Ariadne's shoulders, and Cobb tells stories of what James and Phillipa are up to.

Later, they will all go back to Arthur and Ariadne's flat, because it's marginally bigger and cleaner than anyone else's place, and Cobb will leave to pick up his kids from Miles, but the rest of them will celebrate until the small hours of the night. Eames will likely get drunk and say things he'll regret, but everyone else will enjoy. They'll talk and laugh and wake up late the next morning and wonder how they managed to end up here.

The past year has been a killer, and she has no reason to expect the next one will get easier, but for now, she's here with her family and at peace.

It's Christmas 2014, and Ariadne is glad to be home.


End file.
